


A Study in Involuntary Cross-Species Relations, by Dr. Hermann Gottlieb: or, how how Marsha M. Lineham saved the multiverse

by Macremae



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Healthy Relationships, Humor, M/M, Not Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018) Compliant, Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018) Fix-It, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim (2013), healthy communication! emotional availability!, hermann says rip to not talking about your trauma newton and i will be different, literal looney tunes vibes here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23384173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/pseuds/Macremae
Summary: Hermann wets his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, taking this in for the briefest of moments, before his notoriously whip-sharp (and for good reason) mind collects this data, sorts it, and comes to the conclusion of an ingenious plan.Newton is not yet lost. Hermann is still his partner. And not only have the Precursors drastically counted their chickens before they’ve hatched, they made one, fatal, supremely arrogant flaw: they’ve revealed that to Hermann.Or, the Precursors bank on Hermann's emotional repression just a little too hard, and face the (extremely well-researched and therapeutic) consequences.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 7
Kudos: 83





	A Study in Involuntary Cross-Species Relations, by Dr. Hermann Gottlieb: or, how how Marsha M. Lineham saved the multiverse

**Author's Note:**

> this fucking insane idea was born from me yelling at charles and ProblemWithTrouble while livetexting their collab fic, and the "what if hermann said rip to uprising im different" fic was born. yes i actually got out my dbt binder for this. no there is not an end-all-be-all way to deal with someone having a dissociative episode, this is just what works for me so it works for newt. @bae-science on tumblr, @shakesexual on twt.

Newton has been acting extraordinarily strange as of late, and in Hermann’s experience, that has never been a sign of anything terribly good.

It’s understandable; Hermann only entered a helicopter, touched down in front of the oozing corpse of a baby Kaiju, shared his mind with it and Newton, and then reentered said helicopter, but Newton made the brilliant (in both a sincere, and sarcastic sense) decision to Drift with an alien hivemind, confronted a mob boss, was almost eaten by the aforementioned baby Kaiju (the mob boss was not so lucky), and Drifted with it and Hermann, so honestly, more than a bit of a traumatic response is perfectly understandable.

What concerns Hermann, however, is that any attempts he’s made to converse with Newton on this topic have gone awry; either the man insists he’s fine and changes the subject, or becomes disagreeable and the matter is quickly put to rest. Hermann, for all his resolve and fighting spirit, has never been very good at inciting conflict with those whose company he values, even if it’s a very essential argument to have.

He assumes Newton is processing everything and will come to him in time, but as the days drag on and he becomes more and more withdrawn, worry claws at his stomach like a parasite-stricken badger. There are bags like ice cream scoops under his eyes, and a strange twitch to them that makes Hermann quite certain he hasn’t been taking his medications. He desperately wants to resolve this, to force Newton to explain what’s making him so distraught, but the fear of rejection and rebuke keeps him silent. It’s fine. He’s perfectly fine. Newton will open up when he’s ready.

It is the very night he voices this to himself, in fact, that Hermann is presented with the startling revelation that this, in fact, is not entirely Newton.

He finds himself standing in a blank, flat dreamscape of dark walls stretching endlessly out, and feels a shiver run down his spine (that does not exist). The entire place emits a low hum of cold unease, and he senses a presence watching him from the shadows (they also do not exist, but Hermann has learned that does not mean they cannot hurt you).

“Hello?” he says tentatively, gripping the cane he technically does not need here, but keeps for the familiarity it provides. “Who’s there?”

A thin, ominous sliver of smoke wriggles its way out of the shadows, arriving in front of him to twist and stretch and undulate until it takes a form that makes his stomach sink, cold and solid, into the floor. There are far too many eyes, and far too few reassuring body parts, for this creature to be human, and yet Hermann knows what it is on the instant.

“Precursors,” he whispers, too frightened to be ashamed of the crack in his voice. The shape smiles menacingly, its many teeth clacking and clicking like a typewriter. Hermann is paralyzed with terror.

Then the creature opens its mouth, and Hermann doesn’t quite know _what_ to make of it.

“Buenos fucking dias, Hermann Gottlieb,” say the Precursors in a perfect imitation of Alicia Silverstone as Cher Horowitz in the 90’s classic, _Clueless_ (which Hermann has never seen in his life). “Nice jammies. You blow your boyfriend in that button up?”

Hermann blinks, and without thinking, says, “I do beg your pardon?”

The Precursors snicker. “Oh yeah, this is gonna be real fun. Hope you’re not attached to Geiszler, _Frasier_. He’s… how do they say it? Not long for this string of sanity.”

Hermann’s stomach twists. “No.”

“Indeed!” They graduate to a malicious cackle. “You really thought he could just run his grubby little neurons through our Hive and get away with it? Twice?” They shake their head. “Uh uh. You two fucked things up. We want payback. And we’re gonna get it, no matter what you try and do otherwise. Capiche?”

“No,” Hermann says again, starting forward, nausea building in his throat, but the Precursors dissolve into a sneer of mist as soon as they’re within his grasp. Hermann spins around, searching, but cold laughter echoes all around him, bouncing off the encroaching walls until he gasps, sitting bolt upright in nightclothes damp with sweat.

A hand flies to his face, dread puddling in his stomach as the meaning of the dream makes itself startlingly clear: Newton is hurtling at a comet’s pace towards possession.

Breakfast that morning is exceedingly awkward, and Hermann can’t help but glance at him every two seconds, searching for signs to greater confirm his fears. Newton appears, by all accounts, normal, stirring several spoonfuls of brown sugar, blueberries, and cinnamon into his oatmeal until it turns the color of a particularly mangled adult deer. He is frowning, as is per the usual these days. His cheeks look hollower than normal. Hermann notes he has placed two less spoonfuls of brown sugar in the oatmeal than normal, and his coffee is black.

Newton looks up at him, brow furrowing slightly. “What?”

Hermann startles, shoulders jumping up an inch towards his ears. “Nothing,” he says too quickly, and the corners of Newt’s mouth turn down even further. He places a hand on his hip.

“You’ve been looking at me weird all morning, dude. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Newton,” Hermann insists, gripping his toast hard enough that a few crumbs fall to the plate below. “Don’t worry.”

Newt huffs and turns back to his oatmeal, giving it a particularly harsh stir. “Okay. Dunno what _your_ problem is.” Then, oddly enough, at these words he stops, blinks a few times, and looks up perplexedly. “Huh. That was really bitchy; I don’t know why I said that,” he says faintly, as if to himself. He looks at Hermann, apologetic. “I’m really sorry, Herms.”

Hermann wets his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, taking this in for the briefest of moments, before his notoriously whip-sharp (and for good reason) mind collects this data, sorts it, and comes to the conclusion of an ingenious plan.

Newton is not yet lost. Hermann is still his partner. And not only have the Precursors drastically counted their chickens before they’ve hatched, they made one, fatal, supremely arrogant flaw: they’ve revealed that to Hermann.

A slow, pleasant smile creeps itself across Hermann’s face, and he looks Newton directly in the eye as he says calmly, “Like I said, Newton, don’t worry. I’m not insulted at all. The intention was perfectly clear.”

Newton untenses a little bit, that bright, achingly sweet smile of his finally making a reappearance as he sits down at the table, tapping Hermann’s socked foot with his own underneath. Hermann takes up the game of footsie, but inside he is already anticipating scenarios and planning for each. If the Precursors want war with a statistician, _well_. A statistician they will bloody get.

After breakfast, Hermann presses a kiss to the top of Newton’s head and, after their usual morning ritual of teeth brushing, mild clothes stealing, and Tuesday’s schedule of Newt lecturing at HKU in the morning, Hermann coming in just after lunch, the flat is quiet. Hermann takes a deep breath, hurries into the office, and turns on his computer to make a call. The screen rings for a few moments before two faces, one with a fleck of (dinner’s, Hermann assumes) tomato sauce on her cheek, fill the window.

“Hermann?” Karla asks, pushing her reading glasses up her nose. “Is everything alright? You look awful.”

“Karla, Vanessa,” he says in a rush of breath, “what I am about to say next will sound inconceivable, but I need the both of you to move past that as quickly as possible, because we quite literally have no time to waste. Newton is possessed by aliens, and I need you to teach me how to be emotionally available.”

The women, bless their souls and back, hesitate for only enough time to exchange a loaded look before turning back to the camera. “Vanessa, love,” Karla says, “if you’d go put the kettle on and find where I put my copy of the DBT workbook?”

“This sounds like a long haul,” Vanessa replies, already moving offscreen. “I’ll turn the Keurig back on, too.”

Karla nods. “Right. Now, Hermann. I hope you know I only minored in psychology, and a focus on historical at that. Please explain why Newton has, er—”

“Brain worms!” shouts Vanessa from somewhere. She nods again.

“Yes. Brain worms.”

Hermann runs a hand through his hair and over his forehead. “Right. Well. I believe it all began when he opened his mind to the Precursor hivemind the first time.”

Karla pales. “Oh dear. I’d better send you the pdf, too.”

* * *

The first test comes that evening, when he and Newton are sitting on the couch and trying (as always) to select a movie that satisfies both of their highly varied tastes. Hermann can tell that the Precursors are taking this opportunity to be particularly difficult, as Newton shoots down every single option presented, even the ones that would normally merit a good-natured eye roll and agreement to “let him have this one”.

Hermann presses his lips together, thinking hard. Newton has moved to thumbing through the pages of an old National Geographic, and Hermann has a feeling that if this night gets derailed, tensions will rise. He takes a pen from the coffee table and begins to click it up and down, a habit picked up from the man beside him.

He’s tired, and nervous, and looking for something low-stakes and relaxing, but Newton falls asleep at anything that doesn’t manage to hold his attention for at least three seconds. A challenge, then. Something intellectually stimulating by choice, but without any blazing guns or bright effects. What fits that combination? A documentary? No, they’ve gone through their whole collection already. Not a biopic; they’re all people Hermann is interested in. Do they own any foreign films with low audio?

Just like that, a flash of inspiration comes to him. Hermann shifts in his seat, giving Newt a poke in the arm. “Newton,” he says, “what about one of those Japanese movies you like; the cartoon ones? The DVDs come with the Chinese dub-over. We could set it on that and you could get in some practice?”

Newton’s eyes light up, and there’s an odd twitch in one that doesn’t match his enthusiastic expression. _Bingo_ , Hermann thinks.

“Dude, that’s perfect!” he says excitedly. “I’ve been getting threats from the Duolingo owl for days. Here, you pick: _Kiki, Totoro_ , or _Spirited Away_?”

“I like the one about the two girls and the bus cat,” Hermann says smiling, moving in closer as he presses the buttons on the remote to hit “play”. Newton takes his free hand, leaning down to put his head on Hermann’s lap and turning to see the screen. 

“You okay if I repeat some pronunciations?” he asks.

“Of course,” Hermann says, and drapes an arm across Newton’s waist. “Thank you for compromising, dear. I truly appreciate it.”

Newt makes a soft noise of affirmation, already absorbed in the opening music, and Hermann settles in to relax. He’s looking forward to falling asleep tonight.

* * *

Not ten seconds after Hermann sits himself down in the chair he’s discovered he can summon up for himself, the walls of his dream office flicker, and a rush of mist floods the room.

“FUCK YOU,” scream the Precursors at decibles heretofor unknown to man. Hermann fights a losing battle with a smug smile.

“Oh, hello,” he says pleasantly. “I do hope this isn’t unexpected.”

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER. YOU BITCH. YOU THREE HUNDRED YEAR OLD LITTLE FRUITCAKE. WE HAD A SCHEDULE.”

“So do I. I’m thinking of proposing on our anniversary.”

The mist condenses into a translucent form, nearly vibrating with pure rage. “We hate you. We are going to kill you. There is literally no scenario here where you come out on top.”

“Incorrect,” Hermann says. “That is, in fact, the usual scenario with Newton and I.”

They let out a horrifying, animalistic scream. “We are going to twist this world into our own image, and set you down on a bed of spiders, and give you sixteen kneecaps, and then break every single oNE OF THEM WITH THE BLUNT END OF A BATH AND BODY WORKS WALLFLOWER.”

“Make that fifteen,” he says, gesturing to his right knee. “This one’s rather useless already.”

“YOU ARE PLAYING A DANGEROUS GAME HERMANN GOTTLIEB, AND IT IS ONE YOU ARE GOING TO LOSE.”

Hermann gives them a delicate shrug. “We can agree to disagree.” Then, he leans forward, expression shifting into one of cold defiance. His mouth is a straight line. “I invite you, if only to me, to do your utter worst. Give it your _all_. Because I am here, and you are not yet, and _I am not budging_.” He sits back and crosses his legs at the knee. “Now get the bloody hell out of my dream.”

There is a high, long hiss, and Hermann feels a rush of freezing air shoot by him, the motion of the word “watch” an invisible slap in the face. He stays seated. Tomorrow will require a good night’s sleep, after all.

* * *

The first “test”, if one could even call it that, is almost laughably easy. Despite (or perhaps _because_ ) of the day before’s easy nature, Newton remains jumpy and easily irritated, seeming to lose focus for short periods of time before snapping out of them, startled. Hermann, after a day or two of trying smaller fixes, realizes that coaxing Newton’s anxieties out of him will require a bit more effort, and so greets him one Saturday morning with a cloth bag containing their lunch, and Newton’s bus pass. 

Newton frowns. “Uh. What’s this?”

“A surprise,” says Hermann, and shifts the bag over his shoulder. “We’ve had cloudy skies almost the entire week, and I, for one, intend to appreciate the change in weather.”

Newt glances out the window at the warm, sunny day outside, and Hermann can see the truly Newton part of himself itching to get out and walk. “I’ve already taken enough for a nice hike around Kam Shan,” he says, knowing Newton has been wanting to visit ever since the park reopened. Indeed, his face lights up.

“Oh dude, you think the monkeys are out yet?” He takes the bus pass and grabs his boots from the shoe rack by the door, pulling them on as he talks. “It’s actually really interesting how their social hierarchy works; they designate food for the different places on the social ladder, and if somebody lower down eats food intended for a higher ranking macque, they just take it out of their mouth!” He pauses, smile flickering. “It’s, uhーsorry. I’m probably rambling.”

Hermann holds the door open for him, balancing his cane in his other fingers. “Not at all. Didn’t they clone one of the crab-eating breeds in 2018?”

“Somatic nuclear cell transfer!” says Newton, any trace of trepidation gone as he walks through and keeps it open for Hermann. “Oh, dude, lemme see if I can find the article about it on the bus!”

The sky is as blue as a calm ocean when they arrive at their stop, taking another bus from Kowloon to the park entrance near Piper’s Hill. Hermann adjusts his sunhat, rolling his eyes when Newton flicks the front of it and laughs.

“Dude,” he says, “you look like a fifties housewife at the beach.”

“I’d prefer that than being sunburnt in a few hours,” Hermann says, passing over the bag to Newton’s outstretched hand. “Thank you, dear.”

They walk along one of the jogging trails for a while, watching the sun stream in through the treetops and the macaques leap above them. The lush, green hills dive up and down across the horizon; the mist crowning them fades to nothing in the late morning light. Newton takes Hermann’s hand and absentmindedly moves his thumb across the skin between his own thumb and forefinger. The air is cool enough to allow skin-on-skin contact without discomfort, and Hermann lets out a sigh of contentment.

“If we rest a bit after lunch, I think I’d be up to one of the hills on the Western Ridge,” he says. 

“That’d be awesome,” says Newt, “but then you have to let me get a picture of you up there.”

Hermann, as a rule, is not a fan of pictures, but Newton seems to be able to get him to agree to just about anything. He sighs mock-annoyedly. “You’re limited to five,” he says, knowing full well this will not be the case. Newton lightly bumps his side in response.

They stop to sit down on one of the benches that looks out towards the reservoir, Newton scooting close enough that their knees are touching. “I’m glad they reopened the park so soon,” he says. Hermann nods.

“I think we’re all finding a balance between waiting for an attack that won’t come, and going on as if nothing happened.” He shoots Newton a side-eye. “Some of us, perhaps, better than others.”

Newton huffs. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” says Hermann as matter-of-factly as he can, “I’ve simply noticed, as both your Drift partner and your…” he decides to use the word Newton always does, “boyfriend, that you’re experiencing the after effects of the War _and_ everything that occured on V-Day, and I’d like you to know that I’m here for you.”

Newton’s expression darkens. “So I’ve been acting like a neurotic fucking prey animal, then. Great.”

“You and the rest of the planet,” Hermann replies. This visibly catches Newton’s attention, and he looks at Hermann oddly. “Newton,” he explains, “I may not deal in the visceral sciences, but I can guarantee you that every person in the Shatterdome is experiencing _some_ kind of a post-traumatic response to all this. We faced the threat of death almost daily, the Rangers fought bloody _monsters_ for heaven’s sake, and don’t even get me started on you and I.”

Newton’s eyes widen. “Waitーyou too?”

Hermann nods. “Of course. Newton, not only did I Drift with Kodachi alongside you, but I have nightmares about finding you in that seizure, about Danger not making it through the Breach; it’s a cold comfort, I know, but you are _not_ the only one affected by all of this.”

Newton scuffs at the ground with his foot, staring down at the pile of dirt it forms. “I just… I dunno. Feel like I should be getting over it already.”

“Well I’m afraid that’s impossible, seeing as multiple traumatic eventsーand yes, Newton, that is what they are,” he says off of Newton’s open mouth, “in that rapid succession can make for a rather involved recovery process.” He settles back against the bench. “But, as I said, you are not alone. There is not a single person of at least average intelligence who would judge you for reacting the way you are. It’s perfectly natural.”

“Okay, sure, but I don’t want to…” Newton hesitates for a moment, then looks up at Hermann, shoulders tight. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to deal with me all the time. I know it sucks.”

“I’m not ‘dealing with’ you at all. That’s not how relationships work, and I certainly don’t see this as a one-sided partnership.” Hermann puts his hand on the knee touching his. “You’re not a burden to me, Newton, nor anyone else. You help and care for me just as much as I do for you, and I will be forever grateful for that. I don’t stay with you out of pity, or some sort of obligation, or anything like that; I stay because I love you and you make me happy. That doesn’t change with a bad day, or two, or any number.”

Newton snorts, the tension in him dissolving a bit. “When did you get so good at brain stuff?”

 _My sister sent me a pdf so large it nearly crashed my laptop_ , Hermann does not say. Instead, he tells him, “When I realized it would make my life much easier, and make me feel much better.” Newton covers that hand with his own, and he smiles. “You can always talk to me about anything, Newton, because I truly cannot read your mind anymore. As long as we do this properly and together, I don’t think we have to be nervous about voicing how either of us feels.”

Newton gives him a small nod and looks out at the water. “It’s so crazy to think that it’s over and now we get to just… get on with our lives. I mean, things aren’t gonna go back to normal, or at least what we thought was normal before K-Day, but likeーit’s weird. I got coffee between lectures the other day and the dude at the counter asked to take a picture with me.”

Hermann chuckles. “You let him, didn’t you.”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he says, “I’m riding these fifteen minutes while they last. But I never expected it would happen.”

“Because the world would end, or because you wouldn’t be this famous?”

Newton bites his lip. “Don’t tell anyone, but. A little of both?”

“It’s as if all of our lives suddenly became much longer than we expected, and no one knows quite what to do with the time.”

He nods. “Yeah. I’m not complaining, but it’s jarring. I feel like having a midlife crisis at thirty five.”

“You will dye your hair in someone else’s bathtub, or a salon.”

A shout of laughter bursts out of Newton, and he rubs at his face with his hand. “Hey, hey, I never said that. I feel like that wouldn’t go over too well with most of the other professors. Maybe a beard instead.”

Hermann likes the idea of Newton with a beard. He likes it quite a bit. “You’d look like a lumberjack,” he says sarcastically, knowing this will make Newton throw his razor away the moment they get home. Then he stands, rolling back his shoulders and nodding. “Right. Onward?”

Newton’s eyes crinkle up as he smiles, and he grabs their lunch bag to follow. “You’re into it.”

“I most certainly am not.”

He takes in Hermann’s pink cheeks and laughs, following him back to the trail, hands still together. “Hypocrite; who’s lying about their feelings now?”

* * *

Hermann soundly resents the idea that he could ever “get cocky”, but as he navigates, over the next few weeks, two bursts of mania, breakup anxiety, dysphoria (that one is a bit trickier considering his own lack of experience in the matter, but Raleigh Becket of all people ends up being the one to advise him), and an evening sat down with the aforementioned DBT pdf creating a list of coping skills for each of them (followed by an unexpected prolonging of the evening, as Newton appears to find Hermann’s stolid dedication to mental health incredibly arousing), well. One could not exactly _blame_ Hermann for giving himself a pat on the back or two.

The night Newton loses touch with reality, however, is a bit of a curveball.

Hermann wakes in early morning darkness, the space beside him cold, and feels a stab of anxiety rush through him. The Precursors couldn’t have succeeded in sending Newton away… could they? But no, he feels, like a shape out of the corner of his eye, Newton’s presence in the other room. Taking his cane from its place against the bedside table, he makes his way into the living room and flicks on the light.

Newton is sitting nearly stock-still on the couch, his entire body condensed to fit on the middle cushion, brow furrowed as he stares at a point somewhere near the television. His right knee is bouncing up and down ever so slightly, but there is a strange, distant look in his eyes that Hermann recognizes from memories that are not his own. Even this far out from their Drift, he can feel a tight, twisting feeling in his stomach that sends fuzziness through his limbs.

“Newton?” he says quietly, taking a step forward. “AreーAre you alright?”

A redundant question, Hermann is aware, but from what he understands, it’s best to maintain at least a little normalcy. When Newton doesn’t respond, he swallows hard, walks slowly over to the couch, and gently sets himself down about a foot away. 

“Right. Ah, under the assumption that you don’t feel up to speaking at the moment, do you feel up to signing? Or would you rather tap once for no, twice for yes?” he asks, watching Newton carefully. When there’s a double tap of fingers on Newton’s knee, he nods. Black and white, then. He can do this. “Alright. Is the distance I’m at right now comfortable?”

One tap. “Would you like me to be closer?” Two taps. “Is physical contact good?” Two taps again. Hermann moves to only an inch or two away, and puts a hand on Newton’s arm. Newton leans in to the touch. “Does this help, and would you like more at the moment?” Two taps, a pause, and then one. He nods. “Alright. Is there anything that you are thinking or seeing right now that upsets or confuses you, and you would like a second opinion on?”

Newton remains quiet for a moment, and then in a hoarse, shaky voice, says, “I’m aware that I’m delusional, Hermann.”

“I didn’t want to assume,” he replies. “We’re moving at the pace you set here.” 

“Fantastic,” he says flatly. “I’d rather not have you think I’m crazy, thanks.”

“You’re not crazy, Newton,” Hermann scoffs, then winces at his tone. “Erーsorry. What I mean to say is, this isn’t an indicator of your insanity, and I would much rather you let me help you through this now than just let it get worse.”

Newton takes a mechanical breath in and out. “It’ll go away eventually on its own. It sucks. I just have to wait it out.”

“If that’s what you want, but I can’t imagine you’d prefer to just sit here all night.”

“No, Hermann, but that’s how it’s usually been and I’ve developed a fucking system, so you can just go back to bed and we can forget about this in the morning, okay?” he snaps, his hands jerking up and open, the first big movement since Hermann saw him. He stays that way for a moment, frozen, before letting out a long, exhausted sigh and letting his forearms fall to his knees. “Justーit’s fine. You can go.”

“I don’t want to.”

Newt blinks, brows twitching, and he finally looks up at Hermann quizzically. “What?”

“I don’t want to go, Newton. You’re hurting, and upset, and if there’s any way I can help you, then I want to stay.” He pushes down the lump threatening to rise in his throat, knowing that this isn’t just about one episode; it’s about the next one, and the next one, and the horrible, cruel aliens that are taking everything Newton already struggles with and making it infinitely worse. It’s about the fact that the man Hermann loves is hurting, and even if there wasn’t a single extraterrestrial aspect of this, he would still stay as long as it takes.

Newton gives him a long, intense look, and Hermann doesn’t know whether to steady his breathing or hold back tears. _Newton, please_ , he thinks, _just let me be here, please_. 

Finally, he sends a rush of air out of his mouth in a loud puff and looks down at the hand on his arm. “I feel like if I look in the mirror, snakes are gonna come out of my eyes. Please logically tell me why that can’t possibly happen.”

Hermann nods, trying not to feel dizzy with relief. “Right. Yes, well, to exit your eyes, the snakes would have to be small enough to leave through your pupil, and species that small simply do not exist.”

Newton nods. “Okay, point made.”

“Now, if you’re assuming the more painful version of that experience, I haven’t noticed any wounds on your head that could come from snakes entering it, and you would certainly notice if they did. It just isn’t physically possible for that to happen.”

“Right. Okay. Fair enough.” Newton leans back just a little against the cushions, nodding again. “Thanks.”

Hermann rubs his hand up and down. “It’s nothing you don’t do for me, darling. You’ve never judged me for a panic attack; I’d be foolish to do that here.”

Some color has already returned to Newton’s face, and while his hands still grip his knees tightly, the knuckles are less white. “Okay. Uh, everything’s mainly reallyーjustーfuzzy. Like, weird and fuzzy.”

“Can you tell me five things you see right now?” Hermann asks.

“Uh. The TV, the bookcases, some books, the, uh, the magazines under the coffee table, and the coffee table.”

“Perfect,” he says, counting each finger on Newton’s knees as it loosens, and the light returns to his eyes.

* * *

“So, I was thinking,” says Newton, moving his finger back and forth across the arm of the couch. 

_Uh oh_ , Hermann thinks. _These bastards never let up, do they?_ “About?” he prompts, already running through the boxes of tea they have in the cabinet in case he needs to make one. What Newton actually says, however, causes him to drop the journal he’s been thumbing through straight onto the floor.

“What if I did another Drift?”

Hermann feels all the blood drain from his face; so _this_ is their endgame. Another go at Newton’s head would give the Precursors just the boost they need to fully settle in, and they know that Hermann knows that as well. What are they expecting him to do here? Encourage him and hope he forgets? Offer to go with him again? Noーthey may be imbeciles, but they know those would be out of character for him. 

He knows Newton is searching his face for a reaction, and there’s not much time to form one, so Hermann thinks fast. What information has he been giving the Precursors that would form their prediction of what he’ll say? Stubbornness, obviously; diligence in his planning, being concerned for Newton, quite a bit of protectiveness, actuallyー

 _Oh_. Oh, those tricky little gits.

Well, Hermann won’t be playing into their trap; he knows exactly what to do. Pushing down his instinct to shut the idea down and schooling his face into what he prays is a neutral expression, he nods. “Any particular theories that led to this?”

Newton, emboldened by his question, begins to gesture with his hands. “Iーwell it’s not exactly a theory so much as, like, an instinct? Like, I just have this weird gut feeling that there’s so much more Iー _we_ could learn from the Hivemind and the Anteverse. And I only got a tiny glimpse of what it was like the first time, and the other time you were in the mix so there was some, no offence, interference, so I was thinking that a second one with just me would work?” He glances at Hermann, still some trepidation there. “Obviously I would use an actual pons this time, and do it in a controlled environment like an actual experiment, but… I dunno, what do you think?”

Hermann presses his lips together tightly and rolls his bottom lip back and forth. Here presents the challenge: how to dissuade Newton from the Drift without sounding as if he’s shooting down the idea without proper consideration? He allows himself a good, long moment to think on it before, carefully, speaking.

“I’m… a bit confused on the matter, to be honest. Wasn’t your solo Drift rather… awful?”

Newton frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” says Hermann, “when I found you, you were having a seizure and barely coherent, Newton. And then it took quite a bit for you to even stand up again, and from what I saw it wasーit was terrifying? And painful? I don’t understand why you would want to repeat the experience.”

Newton blinks, pausing to think about it. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, it was… really bad. I dunno why I forgot that.”

“And,” Hermann continues, gathering momentum, “while I do agree that there is a good deal of potential in learning more from the Kaiju, I don’t know if that outweighs the danger in opening yourself up to the Hivemind again.” Off of Newton’s look, he explains: “Drifting, as that Chau man said, is a two-way street. The first time you Drifted with them, they were able to see inside your mind enough to send two Kaiju to your exact location, trying to kill you. And then we defeated them, sent a nuclear bomb into their home, and closed the Breach. That certainly wouldn’t make them very amicable to us, much less _you_ , correct?”

Newton nods. “Well yeah, but it’s not like they could send another Kaiju after me.”

“There are plenty of other things they could do with access to your mind, Newton.”

It takes a moment for him to decipher Hermann’s pointed look, but once he does, Newton’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit. You’re right. Shit, that wouldn’t be good at all.”

Hermann shifts closer on the couch. “I feel that there’s some underlying motives here. Are you not… happy with teaching these days?”

Newton shakes his head, squirming a bit, but forcing his shoulders from rising. “No, it’s not that; I just…” He glances up at Hermann, who nods for him to continue. “Okay. So I pretty much put my entire career on Kaiju, right? Because there was a point when we were just delaying the end, not really ending it at all, and I figured there didn’t need to be any other options. But now there _are_ no more Kaiju, and don’t get me wrong, I love teaching and my students are great but, I dunno. I miss, like, actually _doing_ something.” He gestures to Hermann, “You have the stuff you still do with the PPDC for Breach monitoring, but my speciality is literally gone, dude. And it feels like, what am I even doing anymore?”

“You’re afraid of becoming obsolete?” Hermann asks. Newton sighs.

“Yeah. A little bit. It’s not even an ego thing; I just want to be doing something that makes a difference again.”

Hermann, to be quite honest, is shocked that Newton hasn’t yet thought of what he’s about to suggest. It’s highly unlike him. Damn those aliens. “What about stem cell research?”

Newton’s mouth flattens slightly. “What about it?”

“You did all those experiments and such with Kaiju regenerative tissue; why not apply it to a medical field? You are a biologist first and foremost, Newton, really. You’ve always been against all those private labs that make treatments like that so expensive and elite, so why not use _your_ expertise to develop something that can be used by everyone? This is still a rather dangerous world we live in.”

A lightbulb practically explodes in Newton’s eyes, and his mouth drops open. “Holy shit, Hermann, you’re a genius.”

“Might I get that in writing?”

“Noーshut upーthat’s actually perfect? How the fuck did I not think of that; Ness literally threatened to steal my pancreas and use it herself when she gave me the shovel talk; literally this is the logical next step here!” He rises and begins to pace. “I mean, you’d have to alter the material so it doesn’t, I dunno, cause people to turn into Kaiju or whatever, but with the right sequencing and alterations, you could rewire that same process to fix faulty organs, or regrow limbs, or do all sorts of stuff! Fuck Dr. fucking Thompson; they’re trying the same old borderline eugenics stuff, but _I’ve_ actually got the chops to not sell the fuck out!” He leaps back onto the couch and plants a long, fierce kiss on Hermann’s forehead. “Baby I love you so much, your brain is so sexy.”

Hermann can’t help but laugh at this, closing his eyes as his face goes warm. “Don’t be ridiculous, Newton, you’re the one who missed saving the world.”

He leans back and opens his eyes, ready to return the gesture, but at the look on Newton’s face, his heart stops.

“ _That’s. Fucking. Enough_.”

Newtonーno, no, not Newton, the _Precursors_ are staring at him, fists clenched so hard they’re milk-pale, with a look of pure, unrelenting hatred. Hermann’s heart begins to beat wildly, hammering so hard it threatens to exit his chest. They move forwards, pushing him backwards towards the other arm. 

“ _Do you know, Gottlieb, what we have had to put up with these past few weeks? Do you know how desperately we want to take this little meat puppet’s hands and use them to wring your neck? We put time and effort into our plans, y’know; we had it all figured out, and then you just had to pretend to be the big, brave hero._ ” They smile, baring their teeth in a wide, gleeful snarl. “ _Well guess what, tough stuff? We’re done playing. Geiszler is_ ours, _got it? We win, you lose, and now you’re going to fucking_ pay.”

Hermann presses himself back against the arm of the couch, leaning as far away as he can from their twitching hands, teeth inching ever-closer to his throat. The seconds pass like frozen honey; one, two, three, and thenー

He smiles smugly, raising his eyebrows. “Oh dear. Checkmate, I’m afraid.”

The Precursors’ eyes widen as they realize their mistake. “ _Wait. Shit_ ー What the fuck just happened?!” screeches Newton, scrambling backwards. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and he stares at his hands with a panicked expression. “What the fuck. What the fuck. Hermannーdid you see that? Did I justーor they justー” he cuts himself off, breaths coming too short to keep speaking. Hermann quickly crawls forward and takes his hands, squeezing them.

“Newton, Newton, it’s alright. I figured it out; it was all a trick for them; you’re safe.”

He pulls a breath in brokenly. “I… what? Hermann, what _was_ that?”

“That was the Precursors, darling. They’ve been trying to take you over since your Drift with them, and just made the mistake of revealing themselves to you.”

Newton’s panic seems to subside a bit as he gapes at him. “I was almost possessed? No, they were going to possess me? Youーyou knew the whole time?”

“Well of course,” Hermann says, “why do you think I was able to help you with everything? I surmised how they would attempt to hurt you and did the appropriate research.”

“Andーand you didn’t think to, I dunno, tell me?!” Newton snaps, face redding with anger. Hermann nods quickly.

“Of course I did, but if they were already able to twist your thoughts and manipulate your emotions, who’s to say they wouldn’t do the same if I confronted you? They never would have let you believe me, and I certainly wasn’t going to let the PPDC lock you slash them up when there was a perfectly good solution already.”

Newton opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it. “I. Huh. Damn. That… annoyingly makes a lot of sense.” He frowns. “Wait, then why did you let them threaten you for so long? They could’ve hurt you!”

“Oh,” Hermann says flippantly, “well, that was an easy riskー”

“Easy risk? Dude! I’d never forgive myself if I did that!”

“Well firstly, it wasn’t you,” he says. “And secondly, I just needed them in control long enough to make their presence obvious. You’re not in the disastrous mental state I imagine they wanted you in when they took full control, and now, if I may knock on wood a bit, the jig, as they say, is up.”

A strange, unreadable look settles on Newton’s face. “So you learned all that mental health stuff for me… and were willing to bet the whole thing on you being right?”

“Of course,” Hermann says confidently. “I’m never wrong, Newton. Now, I think it’s a good time for us to visit medical; you certainly need at least an MRIーmmph!”

Without warning, Newton launches himself at him and grabs the back of Hermann’s head, pulling him into a searing kiss. He wedges a knee in between his legs, running a hand down his chest and gripping his waist as Hermann gives a groan that’s half-surprised, half unexpectedly aroused. 

“It is so fucking stupid how sexy you are when you’re hubristic, holy shit,” Newton mumbles, moving down to mouth at Hermann’s neck. “I can’t believe you did all that research for me, and that whole stupid plan, and you were _right_. Oh my God they better let us Drift again, that better be it, I wanna read your mind again and send you dirty shit at inopportune times because you’re a _dick_.”

“Thatーthat probably is our bーbest solution, yesー _Newton_ , Hermann says breathlessly, finding it difficult to form words with Newton’s mouth sucking bruises down the line of his tendon. “Newton, we really should get you to the Shatterdoー _ah_!”

“Yeah, sure, fine, sure,” Newton agrees, stopping for a moment, “but first, we’re gonna show these aliens _exactly_ who my ass belongs to.”

Hermann gives a sharp laugh that quickly dissolves into a moan as Newton begins moving his hand lower, and just as the thought occurs that nothing could be better than this, he feels the shape of a pointed middle finger poking ever-so-slightly at his thigh.

“Exhibitionist,” he sighs lovingly, and goes about giving Newton something Hermann will feel the moment their minds connect again.


End file.
